erial for rhapsodies."

"And why not?" said Elizabeth indignantly. "If he didn't love the
country and believe in it he wouldn't be going into its public life. You
can feel that he is Canadian through and through."

"A farmer's son, I think, from Manitoba?"

"Yes." Elizabeth's tone was a little defensive.

"Will you not sometimes--if you watch his career--regret that, with his
ability, he has not the environment--and the audience--of the
Old World?"

"No, never! He will be one of the shapers of the new."

Delaine looked at her with a certain passion.

"All very well, but _you_ don't belong to it. We can't spare you from
the old."

"Oh, as for me, I'm full of vicious and corrupt habits!" put in
Elizabeth hurriedly. "I am not nearly good enough for the new!"

"Thank goodness for that!" said Delaine fervently, and, bending forward,
he tried to see her face. But Elizabeth did not allow it. She could not
help flushing; but as she bent over the side of the platform looking
ahead, she announced in her gayest voice that there was a town to be
seen, and it was probably Regina.

The station at Regina, when they steamed into it, was crowded with folk,
and gay with flags. Anderson, after a conversation with the
station-master, came to the car to say that the Governor-General, Lord
Wrekin, who had been addressing a meeting at Regina, was expected
immediately, to take the East-bound train; which was indeed already
lying, with its steam up, on the further side of the station, the
Viceregal car in its rear.

"But there are complications. Look there!"

He pointed to a procession coming along the platform. Six men bore a
coffin covered with white flowers. Behind it came persons in black, a
group of men, and one woman; then others, mostly young men, also in
mourning, and bare-headed.

As the procession passed the car, Anderson and Delaine uncovered.

Elizabeth turned a questioning look on Anderson.

"A young man from Ontario," he explained, "quite a lad. He had come here
out West to a farm--to work his way--a good, harmless little fellow--the
son of a widow. A week ago a vicious horse kicked him in the stable. He
died yesterday morning. They are taking him back to Ontario to be
buried. The friends of his chapel subscribed to do it, and they brought
his mother here to nurse him. She arrived just in time. That is she."

He pointed to the bowed figure, hidden in a long crape veil. Elizabeth's
eyes filled.

"But it comes